


Talking to the Moon

by chasingthunder



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingthunder/pseuds/chasingthunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict returns home early from an extended trip overseas. He reflects upon how he met and fell in love with his darling wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking to the Moon

“Cheers, Martin,” Benedict yawns as the car rolls to a stop. The buckle of his seat belt clatters against the car door as he undoes the strap and fumbles at the handle.

Martin shifts the car into park, and then smiles cheerfully at his friend. “You owe me majorly—I mean, dragging me out of my warm bed and into this cold night, an old man like me. Let’s hope I don’t contract pneumonia.”

“You are right,” Benedict deadpans with a straight face. “You are the best friend that anyone could ever ask for, and I owe you a massive favor sometime in the future. And,” He raises his voice to be heard over the older man’s words. “If you do happen to get ill, which you will not, I solemnly swear that I will nurse you back to health myself.”

“God, I hope I don’t get sick,” Martin shudders dramatically. “Because you’d look like shit in a nurse’s outfit.”

Benedict doesn’t answer. Instead he twists around in his seat and grabs for the two small bags he’d managed to get away with on his latest trip to the states. He nearly clobbers Martin in the back of the head as he brings his luggage up and around into his lap.

“Easy,” Martin chides before he rummages around in the back seat to pull out a paper bag. “Wine, as you ordered—Amanda suggested the strawberries, so she’ll be expecting a thank you some time tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Benedict’s lips twitch in amusement before he opens the car door and begins to clamber out of the low vehicle. “Thanks again, mate. I really do owe you.”

“No worries,” Martin grins. “This just means that when I call you at half past midnight to pick me up from the airport, you’ll have to do it and you can’t even complain about it.”

“Deal,” Benedict shuts the car door with his hip and then waits for Martin to successfully reverse out of the narrow driveway before he begins his trek up to the side door.

It’s a modest country manor that Benedict had fallen in love with nearly ten years previously. Living in London, and his subsequent rise in fame, had lost its appeal ages ago, and he’d begun the search for more private domestic quarters. The manor had been on his radar from the beginning practically, and he’d wanted to own the estate from the very first time he’d laid eyes upon it online.

But in true Benedict fashion, he could not justify spending so much money on a massive estate for just himself. So he resigned himself to a modest townhouse on the outskirts of London, far enough away to afford him some privacy, but close enough that traveling for work wasn’t a hassle. And so the manor house slipped from Benedict’s mind as one of those unattainable dreams that he might accomplish in another life.

But then Benedict had met Addy, and they had fallen in love. They had taken things slowly at first, but after what his mother had deemed a properly romantic British courtship, he had proposed. They were wed in a church ceremony as per Addy’s wish, and then they’d had a celebration with all of their friends and family that had lasted the entire weekend. And even though he could not recall half of it, it was the best day of his life.

Addy had moved into Benedict’s townhouse, and they’d settled into domestic bliss quite easily. He loved returning home after a grueling day of film to find his Addy just putting the last touches on a home cooked meal, or how she always knew just how to unwork that kink in his neck out with her gentle fingers, or the times she’d creep into his study in a silky nightie as he practiced running lines and they’d stay up until the late hours of the night making love until her cries of pleasure seemed to shake the very dust from the rafters.

The unthinkable happened nearly a year into their marriage. The British media had always been aggressive when it came to Addy. The public seemed to have some sort of sick fascination with the girl who managed to snag Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor’s heart. Addy understood that her husband’s fame did have its downsides, and she’d happily accepted him and his metaphorical baggage.

She’d been having lunch with a friend, and of course they had gossiped contentedly over their meals as only two old friends can do. Addy had revealed that she and Benedict had been trying for a baby, and that she’d taken a positive home pregnancy test with him just last week. They’d heard the baby’s heartbeat only yesterday, and they were over the moon elated about the latest addition to their family.

The girls had continued their afternoon together out at the shops, and a merry few hours passed in this manner. But the press caught up with the two women, and bombarded Addy with questions about her pregnancy. Flustered and frightened, Addy and her friend cut their shopping short and began to head home. But they were followed, and the other drivers were so much more aggressive and there was an accident.

By the time Benedict arrived at the hospital, there was no discernable fetal heartbeat.

Perhaps he’d overreacted in the following weeks, but Benedict was out for blood. His solicitor had served out lawsuits to the photographers, the drivers, and the media outlets that covered the accident, to the city for not properly maintaining the busy London roads, and to the people who had planted the illegal wiretap on his wife’s mobile.

But none of this legal drama could bring back the smile to his wife’s face, and so when Addy was well enough to travel, the Cumberbatches fled London for good. They needed a fresh start, and to rebuild the privacy that they had been robbed of on that wet August afternoon.

Imagine Benedict’s surprise when his realtor announced that his dream manor was still for sale. Benedict dreamed of gifting his wife with the seclusion and the security that she been robbed of in the city. He imagined filling the rooms with deliciously fat babies with ginger curls and dimpled knees and his Addy’s eyes. He wanted them to begin again on this estate, and so they claimed it as their own.

He and Addy spent weeks decorating and arranging all of their belongings in the massive manor. It was almost as if they were in an isolated bubble all by themselves, and the outside world ceased to exist. Benedict treasured those weeks close to his heart for his wife began to smile once more at him. Long, rambling walks in the gardens restored the color to his wife’s cheeks, and late night talks by the roaring fire slowly brought back to life her soul. They rediscovered each other’s bodies in flickering candlelight and Addy remembered exactly why she had fallen in love with the gentle man beside her.

But real life came knocking on their door just half a year later, and Benedict reentered the public eye, albeit a bit more reserved and slightly more cynical than before. Addy picked up her paintbrush once again, and it seemed as though life was settling back down into a steady groove—until Benedict was called away to the states for preproduction on a Hollywood film. He had griped and groused about his departure for ages, claiming that he wouldn’t leave her on her own. He’d nearly ripped his hair out bemoaning the fact that he’d signed the contract a year ago, therefore he was under lock and key by a major production studio.

She had smiled at his overprotectiveness, and then kissed him goodbye in the terminal at Heathrow. Thus the not-so-newlyweds spent their first significant amount of time apart. Benedict was busy for almost three weeks, and Addy spent her time working on her paintings. He called her every day, multiple times a day, and she cherished the late night chats on the Internet where she could see his crooked smile, though it was grainy and distorted by his webcam.

But here he is, early from his business trip, and excited to surprise the little bride he’d left behind and so sorely missed each night in his empty bed. He had been given an extra two days of free time to spend in Los Angeles before his return to London, but falling asleep with his wife in his arms sounded infinitely better than strolling along Venice Beach’s boardwalk alone.

Somehow he manages to maneuver his way inside without dropping his keys or his bags. This is a feat in and of itself, for Benedict never has been known for his light footsteps in the dark.

The security alarm begins its warning tone, and he crosses the room to enter the four-digit code to disarm the alarm: 6-4-12, the day Addy took his last name on as her own. When he’d announced their secret password, she had laughed and called him silly. Because what’s more obvious than their anniversary date? He had retorted smartly that he didn’t want to stress any potential burglars out by making their entrance code unbreakable. And she had kissed him soundly on the mouth, and laughed into their embrace until even he cracked a small smile at their bantering.

The house is quiet, as he fully expects it to be, because it’s going on two in the morning and Addy is surely fast asleep upstairs. Benedict locks the door securely behind him, and then resets the security system before he leaves his keys on the table in the hallway and then busies himself with placing the wine and strawberries in the refrigerator, before he begins to make his way upstairs. His tread is quiet, muffled by the carpet as he tries to keep from waking his wife. His romantic surprise can wait for another day, because all he wants to do is crawl into bed with Addy and breathe in her scent as he drifts off to sleep.

“Ben?” A raspy voice alerts him to her presence, and he looks up to see her standing at the top of the stairs.

Her hair is wild and unbound, a sure sign that she’s gone to sleep with it wet, and she has her soft brown frames on to aid her sight in the dark. She’s clad in a soft oversized t-shirt, one of his that she’s nicked from his drawers and claimed as her own. She has never looked more beautiful to him than she does in this moment.

“Addy,” He answers quietly, feeling suddenly quite emotional.

He hurries up the last few stairs, and she drinks in the sight of him hungrily. They meet at the top of the stairs, and he drops his suitcases to cup her face in his hands and capture her lips up against his own in a heated kiss. Her hands reach up and bury themselves in his thick, unruly curls and he nearly moans at the feeling.

They break apart, and he settles for wrapping his arms around her waist and rocking back and forth with her in his arms. Her forehead is warm against his own, and god, it feels divine to be back in her arms once again.

“You’re back,” She breathes unnecessarily, her eyes wide and excited.

He nods and squeezes her hips lightly. “I am.”

“Welcome home,” She whispers, her voice getting caught in her throat. “You darling, darling man.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my go at a Benedict Cumberbatch one shot. I quite like the characters I've created, and I've a few more scenes written out between the two of them. If anyone is interested, I can post those separately.
> 
> Please do let me know how I'm doing. I'm eager to hear your feedback! Xxx
> 
> This is also posted on my writing Tumblr, http://deliciouslydeliriousx.tumblr.com .


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